


Hero

by barbaricyawp



Series: Torture Tuesday [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 16:39:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18814840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbaricyawp/pseuds/barbaricyawp
Summary: Peter is held for ransom. Tony is displeased.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: suspension, bondage, gags, broken bones, teeth, verbal abuse

The door opens and Peter strains to lift his head. It’s an effort that requires his whole body. His hands are bound to his ankles. 

Hogtied and suspended as he is, his whole body is at the mercy of the ropes. Has been at their mercy for the past few days.

 _If_  it really has been days. Peter is beginning to lose track.

At some point, they got so tired of Peter’s endless yammering ( _You think hanging here is gonna bug me? My dude, I’m_ Spider-Man _. All I do is hang! You can’t bug me. I am the bug!_ ) that they gagged him. 

The t-shirt (his t-shirt) stuffed into his mouth and tied with rope doesn’t silence him. If anything, it made him louder when they beat him with the baseball bat. It made him louder when he sobs, broken and woeful. And he was certainly louder when they left him here over night. Then over night again. 

He was quiet by the third night.

He’s quiet now, watching the man like a caged animal. Less quiet when the man lifts his head by the hair. His knuckles are tight against Peter’s scalp, especially when he gives him a sharp shake. Peter’s neck aches, sore all down the column. He can’t help but whine a little, wincing.

“You don’t look so good.”

Peter considers his broken nose. It healed crooked last night while he slept. (Peter has learned how to sleep like this. Despite his numb hands and feet. Despite the coarse scrape of rope over the friction burn.)

(Despite the way he can’t find any part of his body that doesn’t hurt.)

He wrinkles this crooked nose up now, cracks a grin behind the gag. Exposing his missing canine and both lower central incisors. 

The man slaps Peter over the face. Great. Broken nose. Missing teeth. And now a handprint.

“You’re a pain in the ass, kid. I almost hope Stark doesn’t cash out.” The man lifts a camera. The bright flash stings Peter’s eyes and he flinches back, eyes watering. “I hope I’m the one who gets to shoot you dead.”

The polaroid spits out of the bottom of the camera and the man lightly waves it in front of Peter’s face. It’s meant to be intimidating, but Peter’s heart leaps up with hope at the mention of Mr. Stark.

“That doesn’t work,” Peter tries to tell him, but it only comes out as vowels. He keeps talking anyway. “The picture doesn’t even touch the air.”

The man grips the single rope bearing all of Peter’s weight. He seizes it up and brings Peter to eye level. There’s a coldness to his eyes that shocks Peter. He really does hate him.

“Shut. Up.”

As quickly as he plucks him up, the man drops Peter. The main rope snaps taught and so every rope pulls up with it. Thighs burn, sternum sings, wrists and ankles throb as if they might pop off here and now.

The camera flashes.

“Oh,” the man says. “That’s a nice one, actually.”

He turns the still-developing picture to Peter. The image there is…Peter’s heart clenches. That’s not him. That can’t be him.

“No way Stark won’t pay up now. Shame.” The man jabs three fingers dead between Peter’s eyes. “Bullet woulda gone there. I like the way you look when you can see it coming.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the wondrous whumpywhumper who requested Tony finding him

Tony gets the pictures. He sees the pictures. He sets them down. He takes a breath.

And then he loses his mind.

Finding them? Easy. Mowing down the henchmen? Below Tony’s pay grade (most work is). Eviscerating Peter’s captors until they screamed for mercy? Fun. Denying that mercy and curb stomping the creeps? Satisfying.

But over too soon.

It takes him a while to find Peter. He scours the house, even knocks down a few walls. All he finds a severed rope hanging from the basement ceiling.

He ends up finding him in the garage. In the open trunk of a mid-sized sedan. 

Peter is on his side, face tucked in towards the interior of the trunk. His wrists and ankles are bound behind him so tightly that the bow of his body must be agonizing.

Tony rushes to release him. He fumbles the knots and mumbles. “Sorry, kid. I wasn’t a Boy Scout.”

Peter just mumbles. Tony winces, recognizing the muffled jumble of vowels smothered against cloth. He saw the gag in the pictures. Should’ve known.

Slow it down a little, Stark. Make sure the kid is okay first.

He loosens the ropes around Peter’s wrists, helping him ease his arms and legs back down. 

Tony turns Peter onto his back to face him and,  _Jesus,_ he wasn’t prepared for the sight of the kid’s face.

Or, what he can see of his face under the bruises and crusted blood. And the gag. Tony works the rope from between his teeth and slips out the cloth, as quickly and carefully as his impatience will allow him to.

When he sees that crushed face, all Tony wants to do is pull Peter in for a hug. He doesn’t hold him tight, mindful of potential broken bones.

Peter huffs against his shoulder. The poor kid is shaking all over, probably with relief. Tony’s been there before. 

“I was so scared.”

“Yeah,” Tony sighs. “Me too. Are your teeth okay? I’ll buy you new ones…”

Peter cough-laughs. He leans back and curls his lips up into a grimacing smile. All the gaps are there, but brand-new teeth have begun to grow where the others were yanked out.

Tony blinks. “That’s really something, Parker.”

“Yeah?” Peter starts, tonguing over them. “I’m a little worried they’ll look weird with the others. I mean, my teeth aren’t yellow or anything. But they aren’t baby-teeth, you know? I just hope the new teeth aren’t too white or anything–”

God, it’s good to hear Peter Parker’s scratchy little voice ramble on and on.

“Hey, so,” Tony says, sniffing. “You’re probably thirsty, huh?”

Peter nods. “And  _hungry_.”

Tony lifts Peter up out of the trunk. He’ll carry him home, he thinks. Just fly him straight home like this. “You need a cheeseburger.”

“Actually, I think I need a hero.”

Tony stumbles. “Like the song?”

Peter scoffs. “No. The sandwich.”


End file.
